


anticlimactic

by yotsu8a



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Attics, Awkward Tension, GSA AU, M/M, Parenthood, kind of not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 04:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16926426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yotsu8a/pseuds/yotsu8a
Summary: Higuchi and Namikawa work together on a school assignment.





	anticlimactic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [empathy_junkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/empathy_junkie/gifts).



> this is a ( late ) birthday present for lev, aesthetic bullshitter extraordinaire and a very good friend. it takes place in a high school AU where the yotsuba kids form their school's gsa, but i have no idea where this fic would take place on that timeline.
> 
> no content warnings apply except for gucci criticizing reiji's fashion choices and a little bit of waist touching. you know that cliche school project where a character has to treat an egg like their child? yeah.

_“Life is kind of a miracle.” He could remember the phrase, lazy and slurred, dripping from Arayoshi’s lips, the bleaching white light stark on his skin. The air had been humid with impending rain and something else, and the window was open; he had shuffled the television remote lethargically from hand to hand, eyes only mostly trained on the other boy. His pale haired companion had continued, “I mean, out of all the possibilities out there, what’s the likelihood we’d end up here? Out of a million sperm cells, it’s pretty cool that we managed to survive in the first place. Like … like a miracle. Yeah.”_

Then, Kyosuke hadn’t said much — he’d shrugged it off, maybe laughed a little bit uncomfortably, switched channels to whatever shitty action movie was running that night, wondered how long he could stay there before his parents noticed he’d been missing. The memory echoed through his head and he pushed a cardboard box half-full of old clothes out of the way. 

Kyosuke Higuchi was a mother now, and not a particularly excited one.

“For somewhere so _well organized_ , you really can’t find jack shit up here,” he muttered, pulling a sheer pink scarf from the box and weaving it absently through his fingers. “It’s like a maze.”

“Ungrateful,” replied the dual stacks of bins opposite him. There was a rustling and Reiji Namikawa leaned his head out from between them. “I didn’t see _you_ offering up any materials. Besides, you’d be surprised if you actually cared to _look_.”

Kyosuke rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose. The scarf bunched up in the palm of his hand. “I don’t even remember what we’re looking for.”

“And _that_ ,” Namikawa replied, “is why you haven’t been able to find anything — ah, here we are.”

He craned his neck back to peer upwards at the top of the plastic tower, and Kyosuke did likewise, scowling slightly at the height of the thing. “D’you want me to go get you a step stool or something for that?”

“No, I should be — absolutely fine — ” Namikawa responded between breaths, pushing himself up on his toes to reach for something resting atop the highest bin. He was already a few inches taller, Kyosuke noted with annoyance, nails digging into the fabric pressed against his hand; secondly, he noted, the shirt Namikawa was wearing was a lot _shorter_ than he had realized.

“You really don’t give a shit about the school dress code, huh?” he commented, crossing his arms and leaning back against a wooden beam. “I can see your whole stomach.”

“I didn’t — realize you were such a stickler for rules, Higuchi,” Namikawa shot back, voice strained and frustrated and arms stretched forwards; then he gave a short exclamation of triumph and fell back to his heels, shoving a small, ovular willow basket in Kyosuke’s direction. “There — I _told_ you it was well organized.”

“I can still see your stomach. Could you _please_ put some clothes on?”

“This is my house, Higuchi, I do what I want.” Namikawa _almost_ looked like he was smiling, damn him, but he had slipped back towards the attic door before Kyosuke had a chance to respond and he was suddenly aware that, somewhere along the way, Namikawa had gotten a lot of dust in his hair. Kyosuke sneezed and followed him. 

“We’ve already got all the fabrics we need in my room,” Namikawa started as they descended the narrow staircase to the house’s top floor, “so we should be good to go on materials. Unless you have something else you’re thinking of…?”

“No, that — ” Kyosuke sneezed, managing to mostly defend the back of Namikawa’s head from it — “eugh. That sounds good to me.”

“You’re _sure_ you’re not thinking of anything?”

“You’ve got dust all over your damn head.”

Namikawa paused and turned to look at him, eyes narrowed and amused. “If you care so much, pick it out yourself.”

Kyosuke looked at him for a moment, flicked a piece from the strands of hair around Namikawa’s face, accidentally brushed his finger against Namikawa’s cheek; he reddened — _why the fuck did I_ do _that anyways, what the hell is wrong with me, stupid goddamn idiot_ — and Namikawa kind of smiled and turned back around and continued down the stairs. Kyosuke remained still, though, for a moment; then he realized his palms were sweating, frowned, and followed Namikawa’s lead. 

The other boy was padding out the basket when Kyosuke finally entered the room, jacket collar pulled up a little too far over his mouth in attempt to mask his embarrassment (it had the opposite effect). Namikawa, to his own credit, didn’t seem terribly uncomfortable, but that hardly helped matters for Kyosuke. 

He cleared his throat. “So, your parents just let you have guys over when they’re not home?”

“How often do you think I have boys over?” Namikawa asked teasingly, rising back to his full height. “I’m saving my passionate love for other members of the male gender until after marriage only, Higuchi. This is common knowledge.”

Kyosuke rolled his eyes only a little bit nervously, and Namikawa motioned for him to approach, the traces of a smirk around his mouth. “Come on, Higuchi, I’ve done all the work on this. Unless you want to be writing all of our reports, you’ve got to do _something_ to contribute to the setup. I didn’t invite you over for a house tour, you know.”

_And you never would’ve offered to partner with me in the first place if our class didn’t have every goddamn asshole in the grade in it._ It was for Kyosuke’s sake, too, which only made him angrier, but he swallowed his pride anyways (he had gotten good at doing that, recently — better than he had been before, at least) and stepped awkwardly to Namikawa’s side. He finally allowed himself to admire the other boy’s handiwork; the basket had been left on the bed, filled neatly but not particularly prettily with red cloth — was that a dish towel? — folded around to form a hollow section in the center. The egg itself had taken its place there.

“Not exactly a baby carrier, is it?” Kyosuke mumbled. “Whatever. It’s a fucking egg. Anyways, I don’t see what else we can do for it right now besides carry it around with us.”

“… You could draw a face on it.”

Kyosuke snatched a sharpie from Namikawa’s bedside dresser and drew a frowny face on the egg. “Satisfied?”

“Quite.” A pause. “What’s that in your hand?”

“Huh?” Kyosuke uncurled his fingers; sure enough, he had somehow forgotten he was holding the scarf. “Oh. I picked this up earlier.”

“That’s my mother’s. She doesn’t wear it anymore.” Namikawa took the cloth back before Kyosuke could argue — not that he would have _tried_ , anyway. “And speaking of mothers, I’m sure you’ll make an _excellent_ one.”

Kyosuke reddened. “Don’t call me that. I’m not feminine.”

“Yes, right. Sorry, I meant — ‘Oh, Higuchi, you’re so rugged and handsome and I’m sure you’ll _never_ pay child support.’”

“Shut _up_.”

Namikawa laughed — short and decisive and just a little more mocking than actually amused — and, gripping either end of it, tossed the center of the scarf over Kyosuke’s head. “Make up your mind, then. Are you going to be involved with our … egg, or not? At least help me name it.”

Kyosuke inhaled sharply, face hot. “This is weird.”

Namikawa smiled down at him and then they were kissing.

It was fast, and thorny, and definitely weird but Kyosuke couldn’t say he didn't _like_ it. The first thing he noticed was that Reiji's lips were chapped and rough, the first layer of skin bitten off and peeled away in places; then that Reiji definitely used breath mints; then that _he_ did _not_ use breath mints. His hand rested on the other boy’s exposed waist, and then he decided that he was not going to kiss _upwards_ at _Reiji Namikawa_ and pulled away.

“Hm. That could have been worse,” Namikawa said, pulling the scarf back into his hand. 

Higuchi sneezed.

**Author's Note:**

> http://sugurushimura.tumblr.com/ (yes i know tumblr is dying)


End file.
